My Name is Mary Sue
by Rustie73
Summary: I’ve been informed that my summary was too confusing. Here’s the new one. THIS IS SLASH. SPRACE and JAVID SLASH. THIS IS A MARY SUE PARODY.
1. Racetrack's Lady

I do not own Newsies (surprise, surprise) therefore I do not own any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story (another big surprise).

Race has met the girl of his dreams. Spot has met the girl of his nightmares. And nobody wants to tell the toughest girl in New York that she needs a shave.

1899, Humor. SLASH Sprace Javid

**A/N:** Beta credit to pennylayne, the quintessential overachiever.

In just one night, pennylayne beta'd this story, and wrote and posted the first four chapters of her new story A Very Thin Line. Check it out. It's great!

**WARNING:** Be advised that despite the title **this is a SLASH story **not a Mary Sue story.

This story was written to entertain and not to offend the Mary Sue lovers of the world.

My Name Is Mary Sue

Race was spending more and more time in Brooklyn.

Each day he would awaken as usual and head to the distribution center. As always he and Jack were the first in line to buy their papers, but that's where the old routine ended. Race no longer stopped to search each page for a catchy headline. Now he would read as he walked. And he no longer went to his usual selling spot. He sold his papers as he traveled the route to Brooklyn. Sometimes he would spend the night in Brooklyn and sell the early edition with his friend, Spot Conlon.

But it was not Brooklyn itself that drew Racetrack across the bridge. It was a girl. Racetrack Higgins had met the girl of his dreams.

She was like none that came before her. She was tall and lean and was strikingly beautiful. She had silky chestnut hair and sparkling brown eyes. She was a lady in every sense of the word. And that's what everyone called her. . . Lady.

Each day after selling his papers, Racetrack would stop at Kneussbaum's Delicatessen and buy their lunch. The order was the same every day. It never varied. He'd get two liverwurst sandwiches with a slice of onion, two ice-cold bottles of beer, and a crisp red apple. Mama Kneussbaum would put the lunch into a paper sack then Racetrack would head off to see his new girl.

Race would saunter through the gates of the Sheepshead Racetrack, and as always, Lady would be there waiting. She never disappointed him.

They'd eat their lunch in the usual spot behind of one of the stables. It was away from the noise of the cheering crowds and out of the hot afternoon sun.

Race would eat the sandwiches and drink the beer, then polish the apple on the front of his vest and give it to his new love.

Lady was more than the girl of Racetrack's dreams. She was the most beautiful racehorse he'd ever seen.

Sometimes Spot would join his friend and risk his hard-earned wages on a race or two. But it was never a risk when they bet on Lady. She was a winner every time.

One particular afternoon, Race and Spot were enjoying their lunch in back of the stable with Lady . . . Well, Race was enjoying his lunch. Spot was too distracted by the smell of damp hay and horse manure to eat.

"Dammit, Race! How can you sit there and eat liverwurst and onions, of all things, with the smell of horse shit all around ya? It makes me wanna gag!" Spot grumbled as he grabbed a bottle of beer.

"It smells like perfume to me," Racetrack said with a grin. "And I wouldn't be complainin' if I were you, Conlon. I've smelled the air off'a Sheepshead Bay, and it doesn't exactly smell like a bouquet of roses!"

As always, Lady didn't disappoint her number one admirer. She crossed the finish line strides ahead of the others.

Race and Spot cashed in their winning tickets and went back to congratulate Lady.

They stood and watched as the groom combed her beautiful chestnut mane. He tossed a thick blanket on Lady's back and was leading her to the stall when she was spooked by a sudden noise. She snorted fiercely and reared up as the groom struggled to get her under control. Her eyes widened and the whites around them shown clearly. Her twelve-hundred pounds bucked wildly as she tried to run.

Soon the groom's strong grip and soothing voice settled Lady, and she was eased into her stall.

"Jeeze, Race. I thought we was gonna get trampled for a minute there," Spot chuckled nervously.

But Race didn't answer. He was lying in a crumpled heap against the wall. Spot shook his friend and called his name, but Race didn't respond.

The groom sent for the only doctor at the track . . . The veterinarian.

The vet took a quick look at Race. "This boy needs a real doctor," he said. "There's nothing I can do for him."

Spot reached into his winnings and hired a carriage to take Racetrack back to the Brooklyn warehouse. The boys carried him up to the leader's room while Spot sent for Boxcar. He was Brooklyn's fastest runner.

"I want you to go and fetch the doc," Spot ordered. "Take this silver-dollar and pay him up front. And don't take no for and answer!"

"Will do," Boxcar replied turning his cap backwards and pulling it snugly to his head. He gripped the coin tightly and ran toward the street.

Spot charged into the warehouse and took the stairs two at a time. "How's he doin'?" Spot asked breathlessly as he burst through the door.

"He ain't moved or made a sound since we brought him in here," Big Mike replied. "Take a look at the size of this lump on his head. It's gettin' bigger by the minute."

Spot reached into his pocket and took out a handful of coins. It was not only the rest of his winnings, it was also the money he'd saved to buy his next day's papers.

"Take this and grab a cab to Manhattan. Tell Cowboy what happened and bring him back here."

"You got it, Spot," Big Mike replied. I'll have him back here before you know it.

-o-o-o-o-

Spot was sitting in his perch when the carriage returned. If the situation weren't so serious, he would have laughed at the sight.

Big Mike and Cowboy were riding up top with the driver while inside were Blink, Skittery, Dutchy, Mush, Pie Eater, and Specs. They were crammed in so tight that there were heads and arms hanging out the windows. When the door was opened, they tumbled out like marbles.

"How's he doin'?" Jack asked as he spit in his hand and held it out to Spot.

"I don't know," Spot replied, spitting in his hand to return the handshake. "The doc's with him now. . . . How the hell did all you guys fit in there?"

"It wasn't easy," Specs said as he shook his arms and legs to get back their circulation. "The driver wasn't happy about all of us takin' the ride, but we convinced him."

Spot looked at the driver who was now sporting a shiny black eye. The driver cracked his whip, and the carriage raced out of sight.

Spot, Jack, and the boys all sat on the stairs outside Spot's room. Finally, the Doctor came out and closed the door.

"How is he?" Jack asked springing to his feet.

"He's awake now, but he took a bad blow to the head. Before you go in there I want you to know that he's a bit confused. He'll probably stay that way for a couple of days. You will need to be patient, and go along with whatever he says. It's important that he remain as calm as possible."

The boys entered the room and crowded around the bed. Race's eyes were closed and the bruise on his head was now large and purple.

Spot sat on the bed and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Then Spot softly called his name.

Racetrack's eyes fluttered open and he glared at Spot. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and shouted, "What are you doing on my bed! Get Up NOW!"

Spot leaped off the bed and onto his feet. "It's me Race. It's me, Spot. Don't you recognize me?"

"Who are you calling, Race? My name is Mary Sue. And what are you boys doing in my bedroom? It isn't proper. Get out, all of you! Get out NOW!"

End Chapter One

**A/N:** pennylyane pulled an all-nighter to beta this story. She's great and so are her stories. Please check them out. Strong Men Crumble (easily one of the best Newsies stories I've come across) and Lean on Me are two of my personal favs. Her new story A Very Thin Line is also first rate. They are well worth reading.


	2. Spot's Girl

I do not own Newsies (surprise, surprise) therefore I do not own any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story (another big surprise).

* * *

Race has met the girl of his dreams. Spot has met the girl of his nightmares. And nobody wants to tell the toughest girl in New York that she needs a shave. 

1899, Humor. SLASH Sprace Javid

* * *

**A/N:** Beta credit to pennylayne, the quintessential overachiever. 

In just one night, pennylayne beta'd this story, and wrote and posted the first four chapters of her new story A Very Thin Line. Check it out. It's great!

* * *

**WARNING:** Be advised that despite the title **this is a SLASH story **not a Mary Sue story. 

This story was written to entertain and not to offend the Mary Sue lovers of the world.

* * *

Chapter 2

"What the hell was that?" Spot demanded. "What's with all that Mary Sue business?"

"I told you that your friend is confused," The doctor replied. "He is under the delusion that he is a girl named Mary Sue."

"This ain't happenin'," Jack mumbled as he paced the dock. "This ain't happenin'."

"Your friend has suffered a very serious injury. He's lucky to be alive. Sometimes when a patient receives this type of injury, they become confused and don't know who or where they are. In this instance, the patient is quite familiar with his surroundings, but his identity is a point of confusion. Your friend has informed me that he a girl named Mary Sue. Apparently she has an evil father who beat her, so she ran away and became a Brooklyn newsie. She says that she is the toughest girl in New York, and that she is in love with Spot Conlon, the leader of Brooklyn."

"Son of a bitch!" Spot hissed as the others chuckled.

"This is very serious, young man. It's important that you all go along with him, and let him think that he is Mary Sue. The shock of telling him that he isn't Mary Sue or that he isn't a girl could cause him to have a complete brake-down. His mind could shut itself off from the world permanently."

"Okay, Doc. What do you want us to do?"

"I don't want you to do anything. Just behave normally, and follow his lead. If he thinks that he's Mary Sue the newsgirl, then let him be Mary Sue the newsgirl."

"And what happens when he wants to be Mary Sue, Spot Conlon's girlfriend?" Blink asked with a mischievous grin.

"Then let him be," the doctor replied.

"Excuse me!" Spot shouted through the sniggers of the others.

"I'm not saying that you have to kiss the boy just be nice to him. You're an intelligent lad, you can figure out what to do. In most cases the patient's memory comes back in a couple of days. I'm sure you can put up with it for that long."

Spot shook his head and took a deep breath, "Okay, Doc. I'll do it if I have to, but he ain't gonna go paradin' around Brooklyn in a dress or nothin', is he?"

"Definitely not. Mary Sue told me that she wears boys' clothing to disguise herself from her evil father."

"Well, that's a relief," Spot sighed.

Jack escorted the doctor out of the warehouse, and back to his carriage.

"So tell me, Doc. This Mary Sue thing. It's only gonna be for a couple of days, right? I mean, he is gonna snap out of this and be Racetrack again, isn't he?"

"That's generally the case, and at this point there is no reason to think otherwise." Then the doctor paused and looked at Jack. "So tell me, young man. Do you know the patient well?"

"I know him better and longer than anyone. Why, Doc?"

"Well, I was wondering who the real Mary Sue is. Usually a manifestation such as this is based on someone that the patient knows or someone from their past."

"Who's Mary Sue?" Jack grumbled. "Manhattan is loaded with 'em, Doc. You can't walk down an alley without trippin' over one. There all over the place. And once you find one you can't get rid of 'em. They're like stray cats. They either think that you're love with them or that you're their long lost brother. It's gotten so my boys don't wanna go out alone at night. They always travel in pairs to help keep the Mary Sue's away. I'm tellin' ya, Doc, it's an epidemic!"

"That's definitely a strange phenomenon," the doctor mused. "It would be interesting to see if there is any scientific basis for such an epidemic. . . In any case, I will be back tomorrow to check on the patient. Until then you should not leave him alone. Someone should remain with him at all times."

Spot and the Manhattan boys were sitting outside of the warehouse when Jack returned.

"So, can you put me up for the night, Spot?"

"Sure we can, Jack, but you can't afford to loose a day of sellin'."

"Neither can you," Jack replied. "But the Doc said that we can't leave Race alone. Somebody's gotta stay with him all the time, and you can't watch out for him by yourself. We'll take turns sellin' and keepin' an eye on Race. Then we'll split whatever we make. That should keep us goin' for a couple of days."

"I'll take turns with ya, Jack," Mush said.

"We all will," Dutchy added.

"Look fellas, I know you all wanna stay and make sure that Race is okay, but ya can't. Swifty and Snoddy can't keep an eye on the younger guys by themselves. They're gonna need your help. I'll stay here with Spot, and the rest of you can come by to see how he's doin' after you're done sellin'. And somebody's gotta tell Dave what's goin' on. He'll hafta work our spot alone for a couple of days."

"Yoo-hoo! . . . Oh, Spottikins!" Racetrack called from the doorway.

"Oh, crap!" Spot grumbled.

Racetrack bounced out the door and threw his arms around Spot. "Where ya been, Sweetie? I've been waitin' for ya all day. "Did ya miss me?" Race asked as he batted his eyelashes.

"It's gonna be a long couple of days," Jack grinned as he looked at Spot's panicked expression.

End - Chapter two

**A/N:** pennylyane pulled an all-nighter to beta this story. She's great and so are her stories. Please check them out. Strong Men Crumble (easily one of the best Newsies stories I've come across) and Lean on Me are two of my personal favs. Her new story A Very Thin Line is also first rate. They are well worth reading.


	3. Spottikins Roommate

Chapter three

Spot spent most of the evening trying to keep away from the affectionate arms of Racetrack.

Jack spent most of his time trying not to laugh at Spot in his delicate condition.

When it was time to turn in for the night, Jack and Spot drew straws to see who would take the first watch over their friend.

"What do you mean; Cowboy is going to sleep with me?" Race huffed. "Have you gone mad? Why, that's positively indecent! I won't stand for it!"

"But, Race, he's gotta sleep in here with you."

"He does not have to sleep in here with me. He can sleep downstairs with the other boys. . . . And stop calling me Race!"

"Okay, _Mary Sue_," Spot hissed through his clenched teeth. "But there's no room for Cowboy in the bunk room. All the beds are taken."

"So you expect me to share my bed with him! What kind of girl do you think I am?"

"Don't make me answer that," Spot mumbled under his breath.

"No, Mary Sue," Jack interrupted. "Nobody's expectin' you to share your bed. I can sleep on the floor. I'll even sleep clear on the other side of the room if it'll make you happy."

"Well, it won't make me happy!" Racetrack bristled. Then he sashayed across the room and snuggled against Spot. "But I wouldn't mind if you stayed in here with me, Spottikins. And I wouldn't be makin' you sleep on the cold, hard floor either."

Spot eased away from Race's grip, and went to stand behind Jack for protection.

"What's the matter, Pumpkin? Don't you want to sleep with me?" Race asked while giving him a puppy-dog look.

"It's not that, _Mary Sue_," Spot grimaced. "But you said it yourself, it wouldn't be proper. What are the guys gonna think?"

"Oh, but Spottikins," Racetrack murmured as he closed the distance between them. "All you have to tell them is that you'll be sleeping on the floor because Jack is using your bunk. And if you should get cold and lonely and decide to crawl into bed with me, who's gonna know?"

"I will!" Spot grumbled as he pulled himself from Racetrack's grip.

"Come on, Spot," Jack smirked. "It's not like you haven't had a girl up here before."

"You what! . . . Oh, Spottie . . .How could you!" Race shrieked. Then he threw himself onto the bed. He was crying into his pillow and kicking his feet wildly.

"Thanks a lot, Jack!" Spot said looking totally exasperated.

"Don't mention it," Jack grinned as the tiptoed out the door.

"Race - - um - -I mean, Mary Sue? Please don't cry," Spot said as he shifted uncomfortably from side to side.

Race responded by crying louder and kicking his feet faster.

"Please, Mary Sue," he said sitting on the bed. "Sit up and talk to me."

Reluctantly, Race sat up and looked at Spot. The puppy-dog face was back, but now Race's bottom lip stuck out in a rather attractive pout.

Spot seemed hypnotized by Race's sad brown eyes and trembling, pouty mouth. His stomach quivered a bit, and his upper lip stared to sweat.

"Well?" Race asked batting his eyelashes.

"Huh? . . . Oh, yeah. There's no reason for you ta get upset. You know that Jack was only teasing you."

"Well, it wasn't funny," Race whined as he laid his head on Spot's shoulder. "Then you will stay in here with me, won't you?"

"Okay. But I ain't gonna sleep in the bed with you. Like you said, it ain't proper. I'm gonna sleep over there on the floor"

"Goody!" Race shrieked as he bounced up and down on the bed. "Now give me a kiss goodnight."

Spot hesitated for a moment, and then gave Race a kiss on the forehead. "Now go to sleep!" he ordered.

"Anything for you, Pumpkin," Race smiled. "Pleasant dreams, Spottikins."

_This ain't a dream, it's a nightmare,_ Spot thought. Then he situated himself on the floor in the far corner of the room.

Three hours later, Spot was still wide awake. He was afraid to go to sleep. He wanted to make sure that Racetrack remained a safe distance away.

_Jeeze_, Spot mused. _Will ya listen to that guy snore?_ It _sounds like he's snorin' for both him and Mary Sue!_

-o-o-o-o-

In the morning, Spot stumbled down the stairs.

"Mornin', Sunshine," Jack grinned.

"Don't start with me, Cowboy. I ain't in the mood!"

"What's the matter, Spottikins? Did you have a rough night? Did Mary Sue try to have her way with you?"

"It ain't funny, Jack. And I wouldn't go makin' any cracks like that if I was you. Don't think that I haven't noticed the way you and Dave carry on when you think nobody's lookin'."

Before Jack could reply, they heard the door to Spot's room open.

"Good morning!" Race called as he bounced down the stairs. "And how are the two best-looking boys in New York today?"

"Mornin', Mary Sue," Jack smirked. "Did ya sleep good last night?"

"I certainly did. Just knowing that my Spottikins was so close by helped me to sleep like a baby."

"Yeah, but he snored like a gorilla," Spot mumbled.

"So are you ready to carry the banner, my little Pumpkin?" Race asked.

"I'm not sellin' today," Spot grumbled

"But, Spottie. We always sell together. If you're not going then I'm not going. I'll stay here to keep you company."

"You don't hafta do that, Mary Sue, because I've got a little surprise for you. You're gonna be sellin' with Jack today," Spot smirked.

But, Spottie. I don't want to sell with Jack. I want to stay here with you!"

"Look, I'm the leader here in Brooklyn, and what I say goes!" Spot shouted.

Race's puppy-dog face was back, along with misty eyes and the pouty lip.

Before Race could burst into tears, Spot decided to take a different approach.

"Now, now, Mary Sue. You know that I want ya to stay with me, but ya can't. I have some important leader business to take care of . . . And besides, Jack is our guest. Seein' as you're my girlfriend it's your job to show him around town and make him feel at home. After all, it is the ladylike thing to do."

"Oh, my goodness! . . . How could I be so selfish? I'd be happy to show you around Brooklyn, Jack. I'll be ready in a minute."

Jack and Spot stared in amazement as they watched Race getting ready. He stood in front of the cloudy full length mirror and combed his hair. First he parted it on the right, then he parted it on the left, then he fluffed the dark waves. He licked his lips and pinched his cheeks to give himself a hint of color. When he was through, he took a long last look in the mirror to admire his figure. He turned from side to side, and then pulled in his stomach then stuck out his chest as far as it would go. To complete the routine, Race took a quick glance over his shoulder and gave his backside an approving glance.

"Okay, Jackie. I'm ready to go," Race smiled as he hooked his arm through Jack's. "I can't wait to show you all of the sites of Brooklyn. There is so much to see. Have I ever told you the story of how I came to Brooklyn to become a newsie? I'm the toughest girl in New York, you know. Well, I have a terrible father who drinks all the time. He has a wicked temper and beats me whenever he gets the chance. I ran to New York in search of my long lost brother. I used to have a locket with his picture inside. He looked a lot like you. Did you ever have a sister, Jack? Maybe you're my long lost brother?"

Spot laughed out loud at the dazed expression on Jack's face as Race rambled on unmercifully.

Race was still talking as they disappeared out the door.

Spot dragged his tired body up the stairs and into his room, then locked the door and threw himself onto the bed.

"It's definitely gonna be a long couple of days," Spot mumbled into his pillow.

End Chapter 3


	4. Big Brown Eyes

I do not own Newsies (surprise, surprise) therefore I do not own any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story (another big surprise).

* * *

Race has met the girl of his dreams. Spot has met the girl of his nightmares. And nobody wants to tell the toughest girl in New York that she needs a shave.

1899, Humor. SLASH Sprace Javid

* * *

**A/N:** Beta credit to pennylayne, the quintessential overachiever.

In just one night, pennylayne beta'd this story, and wrote and posted the first four chapters of her new story A Very Thin Line. Check it out. It's great!

* * *

**WARNING:** Be advised that despite the title **this is a SLASH story **not a Mary Sue story.

This story was written to entertain and not to offend the Mary Sue lovers of the world.

* * *

**CHAPTER 4**

"How long is this gonna go on!" Spot shouted at the doctor. "You said that he'd only be like this for a couple of days, but it's been a week already, and he ain't gettin' any better."

"Yeah, Doc," Jack chuckled. "Any longer, and Spot here is gonna find himself engaged or somethin'."

"I think I'm already engaged. Another week, and that nut-case is gonna have me at the altar."

"Calm down, Spot," David said in a comforting tone. "Race is your best friend. You've got to do this for him. You know that he would do the same for you if the situation was reversed."

"Look, Dave. You ain't seen 'em," Jack chuckled. "He goes around here all day primpin' and makin' himself pretty for his Spottikins. The way he hangs on Spot, you'd think that the two of them were attached."

"It can't be all that bad."

"Yeah, it is, Dave," Spot grimaced. "Everywhere I go, he's there right next to me. He sticks closer to me than my own shadow. If he ain't followin' me around, then he's touchin' me. If he ain't touchin' me, then he's givin' me cow eyes and whisperin' girly things in my ear. That kinda stuff might be okay for you and Jack but - -"

"Can-it, Spot!" Jack growled.

"Boys, please. . . I know that this hasn't been easy for you, but think how your friend must feel. Haven't you seen any improvement since the last time I was here?"

"Well, he did answer when I called him Racetrack the other day," Jack said. "But after that he went right back to being Mary Sue."

"Yeah, and I walked in and found him smoking a cigar yesterday." Spot said. "For a minute I thought that I had the old Race back, but I was wrong. When I asked him if he wanted to play a few hands of poker, he said no because it wasn't ladylike."

"There's no way Racetrack would refuse a game of cards, no matter how sick he was," Jack added.

"Well, boys, those are both good signs, but I'm afraid his recovery could take longer than originally expected. There have been cases where the patient remained confused for several years, then suddenly regained their memory."

"Several years!" Spot shouted. "You expect me to put up with this for several years! I won't do it!"

"Yea, Doc," Jack laughed. "By that time, Spot and Mary Sue will not only be married, they'll have a couple of kids too."

"Jack, please," David huffed. "You're not helping. . . Do you really think that it will take a couple of years, Doctor?"

"Those are extreme cases. Most patients regain their memory in just a few days. I'm confident that your friend will soon be back to normal. He's already exhibiting signs that his memory is returning."

"Okay, Doc," Spot grumbled. "But if this goes on much longer, I'm gonna be your next mental case!"

"Just try to be patient, and I'll be back to check on him in a couple of days."

-o-o-o-o-

"David!" Race called from the stairway. "I didn't know you were here. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mary Sue. And how are you? You're looking very pretty these days."

"Oh, please," Spot mumbled as he rolled his eyes. "I think somebody should tell Mary Sue that she needs a shave."

"Did the doctor leave already, Spottikins? He's so nice. He keeps telling me that I bumped my head, but I don't remember getting hurt. Do you, Pumpkin?"

"Yes, Mary Sue. You got a bump on the head last week and that's why you are a little confused."

"Oh, that's silly. I don't feel confused at all. So, what are we doing tonight? Now that Jack and David are here, we can do something special . . . I know! Let's go dancing! Wouldn't that be fun, Pumpkin? I can't remember the last time we went dancing."

"That's because we ain't ever been out dancin', and we ain't gonna start now!"

"Oh, Spottikins, please?" Race purred as he laid his head on Spot's shoulder. "It would be so romantic."

"Back off'a me, you nut-job!" Spot hissed as he pulled his arm away from Race. "Your name ain't Mary Sue, and you ain't no girl! Your name is Racetrack Higgins and you're a cigar-smokin', whiskey-drinkin', card-playin', 5'2" smart ass who pees standin' up!"

"Humph," said Racetrack as he flipped his imaginary long hair over his shoulder. "I know you love me, but you're too proud and stubborn to admit it. Not a girl? . . . That's preposterous!"

Racetrack stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to Spot's room.

"Oh, that was nice, Spot," David said sarcastically. "Really nice! I thought that you weren't supposed to tell him that he isn't Mary Sue?"

"Spot gave up on that a couple of days ago, when Race jumped out from behind the washroom door and tried to lay a big wet one on him," Jack laughed. "But don't worry about Race. This happens a dozen times a day. Race starts gropin' at Spot, then Spot yells at Race, then Race stomps up the stairs and slams the door. I've seen it happen so many times in the past week that I think that I'd recognize Race's ass faster than I would his face!"

"Excuse me?" David said with one eyebrow raised.

"You know what I mean, Dave. Now let's you and me go and get somethin' to eat, and leave the two lovebirds alone."

"Are you sure that you can handle Race while we're gone?" David asked.

"Sure, Dave. You and Jack go out and have a good time. I can handle the _little princess_ by myself."

"We'll be back as soon as we can," Jack smirked. "And don't do anything that I wouldn't do."

Spot climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. "I'm sorry I hollered at you, Mary Sue. Open the door and let me in."

"No! Go away!"

"I'm not gonna go away, so unlock the door and let me in."

"No!"

"Mary Sue! Don't make me kick this door in. You come over here and unlock this door right now!"

Racetrack unlocked the door and went and sat on the bed with his back to Spot. His head was hinging down, and he was making a sniffling sound as if he were crying . . . again.

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you, Mary Sue," Spot said as he sat down next to Race. "But don't you remember that we talked about this? We agreed that you wouldn't go around huggin' me and actin' all lovey-dovey. It ain't proper. You don't want people to think that you ain't a lady, do ya?"

"No." Race replied with the puppy-dog eyes and the pouty lip. "I'm sorry . . . I forgot. It must be that bump the doctor was talking about. I didn't mean to make you mad."

"I know ya didn't, Mary Sue," Spot said pulling out his handkerchief. "Now, dry your eyes and you'll feel better."

Race did as Spot instructed, but then he blew his nose into the handkerchief, and it sounded like the elephant Spot saw at the circus last summer.

_Damn. It's a good thing he ain't really a girl,_ Spot thought. _That noise would scare the hell outta anybody! _"Now, don't you feel better, Mary Sue?"

"A little," Race replied, blinking his large dark eyes and with his bottom lip quivering.

Spot was getting that strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He'd been getting that a lot lately. Especially when Race gave him the look that he was getting now.

"I didn't think that I was confused, but I guess I am."

"I know, Mary Sue. But you are gettin' better, and the doc says that you'll be okay in a couple of days."

"Spot?" Racetrack asked in-between sniffles and pouts. "Who's Race?"

"Um. . . What?"

"Well, you keep calling me Race. Is she an old girlfriend of yours?"

"No, Race isn't an old girlfriend of mine," Spot chuckled. "Race isn't even a girl. He's the best friend I ever had."

"What happened to him? I don't think that I've seen him around here . . . Have I?"

"No, Mary Sue. You ain't seen him. Race got sick a while back and he ain't been the same since then."

"Do you miss him?"

"Yeah . . . Yeah, I do miss him."

"Well, do you love him?"

"What!"

"You said that he's the best friend that you ever had. Do you love him?"

Spot looked at Race's wide eyes and childlike expression. "I guess I do love the little bastard . . . I mean, he is my best friend and all. I ain't got any family to speak of. Race is like my family, only better."

"How is he better than having a family?"

"Well, with family, you're stuck with what you get. It don't matter if they're good or bad, you're stuck with 'em either way. But your friends are your friends because they wanna be, not because they hafta be. And Race is the best of 'em all. He's the one person in this world that I know I can count on."

"It sounds like you're a pretty lucky guy to have him as your friend."

"Yeah," Spot said as he examined Racetrack's crooked smile. "Yeah, I am lucky."

"If I were Race, I think that I'd be pretty lucky too."

Spot stared into Race's eyes, and he could feel his stomach tighten. His heart began to pick up speed as a warm flush covered his body.

"Okay . . . That's enough talk for now," Spot said uncomfortably. "Whadda you say we go and get somethin' to eat?"

Spot attempted to stand, but was pulled back down when Race grabbed his arm.

Race didn't speak. He looked at Spot as if he were waiting for the answer to a question. Race slid his hand down Spot's arm, then gently squeezed Spot's hand and smiled.

Without even thinking, Spot leaned over and brushed his lips across Race's. They barely touched, yet it sent a wave of pleasure surging through Spot's body. It was the most wonderful feeling he'd ever experienced.

Spot pulled back and looked at Race, who again smiled. The sight of the lopsided grin and slightly crooked teeth took Spot's breath away. He leaned in and kissed Race fully on the mouth. The tight feeling in his stomach became less of a discomfort as it quickly traveled lower. Soon pleasure and desire engulfed his body.

Race returned the kiss and opened his mouth in anticipation of Spot's tongue. Spot eagerly accepted the invitation, and soon he found himself lying on top of Race. A groan escaped Race's lips as he writhed against Spot

The sound of Race's voice sent Spot crashing back to reality. He pulled himself from Race's body and got to his feet. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe.

"What's wrong?" Race asked.

"I can't do this, Mary Sue . . . I just can't do it!"

"It's okay, Spottikins. You're just nervous," Race whispered as he slid his hand into Spot's shirt.

"Jeeze, Mary Sue. I ain't gonna do this, so back the hell off'a me!"

"It's not me you want, is it, Spot? It's not me . . . It's Race, isn't it?"

Spot stared at his friend as a wave of panic flooded his body. "You're crazy! That bump must've knocked somethin' loose in that head of yours!"

"Admit it, Spot," Race pleaded as he shook his friend's shoulders. "Please, Spot, tell me the truth."

"Dammit! Why can't you be Race?" Spot groaned as he slapped Race's hands away from his body.

A smirk covered Racetrack's face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar. "Well, it's about time you admit it, you stupid son of a bitch! If I had to pretend to be Mary Sue for one more day, I was gonna kill myself!"

Race never saw the punch coming. Spot stood over him with both hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.

"You won't hafta kill yourself, 'cause I'm gonna do it for ya!" Spot hissed.

"Take it easy, pal. There's no reason to get this upset."

"No reason to get upset! You make me jump through hoops for more than a week pretendin' to be Mary Sue, and you tell me that there ain't no reason to get upset! . . . Stand up, you little weasel, so I can kill ya like a man!"

"Calm down, Spot." Race pleaded from his place on the floor. "It ain't been that long. It's only been two days. When you started shoutin' at me in the washroom tellin' me that I was Race and not Mary Sue, everything came back . . . I mean, not all at once, but I figured out what was going on."

"Save it! You lying sack of - -."

"Okay!" Race shouted as he got to his feet. "Go ahead and try to kill me, but before I die, I'm gonna speak my mind."

"Make it good, because these are gonna be your last words!"

"Look, Spot. I figured out a while ago that you had some kind of feelin's for me, but I knew if I asked you about, it you'd wanna kick my ass."

"Well, you were right. That's just what I'm gonna do!"

"Then, when this Mary Sue thing came along, I figured that I could force your hand. You know what they say, pal . . . seize the day. I saw the opportunity, and I took it. And it worked, too. So don't stand there and try to tell me that you don't have feelin's for me, because I know that you'd be lying."

"You're crazy! Now, what name do you want on your headstone, Racetrack or Mary Sue!"

"Jeeze, you can really be an ass sometimes! If you'd shut that big mouth of your for just a minute, you'd realize that I feel the same way about you, ya girly-faced moron!"

"What did you just say?"

"I said that you're a girly-faced moron!"

"No. Before that."

"I called you an ass . . . You ass!"

"No . . . In between them two."

"Ya mean when I said that I felt the same way about you?"

"Yeah. That part. What did ya mean by that?"

"Jeeze, Spot! Do you need it spelled out for you? How the hell did you get to be the leader of Brooklyn, anyway? It sure wasn't because you're so smart!"

"Watch your mouth, Higgins. I ain't exactly given up on the idea of killin' you yet!"

The boys stared at each other in silence. It was no more than a few moments, but it seemed like an eternity.

"Admit it, Spot," Race said, making the first move. "You liked what was happening between us. It felt good, and you know it. It happened, and you can't take it back."

Spot knew that Race was right. All of the anger and strength drained from Spot's body, and he slumped down onto the bed. "What do we do now, Race?"

"What do we do now?" Race grinned. "The door is locked, and Jack and David will be gone for a couple of hours. What the hell do you think we're gonna do now?" Race said as he pushed Spot down and climbed on top of him.

"But, Race. We can't - - . . . . Really, Race. We - - . . . . Oh come on, Race. I - - . . . . Ooh, Race! . . . ."

**End Chapter 4**


	5. Ouch! You bit me!

I do not own Newsies (surprise, surprise) therefore I do not own any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story (another big surprise).

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Race has met the girl of his dreams. Spot has met the girl of his nightmares. And nobody wants to tell the toughest girl in New York that she needs a shave.

1899, Humor. SLASH Sprace Javid

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**A/N:** Beta credit to pennylayne, the quintessential overachiever.

In just one night, pennylayne beta'd this story, and wrote and posted the first four chapters of her new story A Very Thin Line. Check it out. It's great!

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**WARNING:** Be advised that despite the title **this a SLASH story **not a Mary Sue story.

This story was written to entertain and not to offend the Mary Sue lovers of the world.

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Chapter 5

Spot and Race were sitting at the edge of the dock when Jack and David returned. They were laughing and whispering and shoving each other playfully.

"Well, you two seem to be getting along," Jack laughed. Then he noticed the bruise under Race's eye.

"Dammit, Spot! What the hell did you do that for? Only a coward would hit a girl!"

"First of all, he ain't no girl. And you'd better watch your mouth, Kelly! 'Cause nobody calls me a coward and gets away with it!"

"Yeah, Jack. Take it easy," Race said. "It ain't what you think!"

"You stay out of this, Mary Sue. This is men's talk! I'll take care of this coward myself!"

David was watching Racetrack carefully. His speech pattern and expressions were definitely different than they were earlier in the day.

"Race?" David asked. "You are Race, right?"

"Yeah, Dave, it's me."

"Race. . . Please don't tell me that this was all a fake and you had us worried for nothing."

_"Hey! Who do you think you're shovin', Cowboy?" _

_"You, ya little woman-hittin' coward!"_

"No Dave. I've just been pretendin' for a couple of days. Since Spot got mad and told me that I wasn't Mary Sue and that I should think more about shavin' and less about what my ass looked like in the mirror."

"Well, how long has Spot known?"

"I told him while you and Cowboy were out havin' dinner."

"What did he say?"

"Before or after he gave me this black eye?"

_"Ouch! You bit me! You little bastard, you bit me!"_

_"You bit me first, you horse-ridin' wanna-be!"_

"Dave? . . . Shouldn't we try and stop them two from fightin'?"

"Nah. They're alright. . . So why didn't you say anything when you first realized that you weren't Mary Sue?"

"Well . . . Um . . . It's kinda hard to explain, Dave."

"Race? Why is your face all red? . . . Wait a minute. . . Not you and Spot? . . . You mean, you and Spot are? . . ."

"Yeah, I guess we are. But please don't let on that you know. Okay, Dave? I mean, if any of the guys find out, especially the Brooklyn guys. . . Well, you know what could happen."

_"Ouch! Let go'a my nose!"_

_"You let go'a mine first!"_

"Of course I won't say anything, Race. Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks, Dave. I just wanna stay here one more night, and then I'll go back to Manhattan. I'll explain everything to Jack then."

"Don't worry about explaining it to Jack. I'll do that on the way home tonight. You stay here and work things out with Spot."

"Thanks, Dave. You're aces!"

_"Get off'a me ya big girl!"_

_"I'm a big girl? You're the one with the girly-face! . . . Ouch! You broke my nose!"_

_"I didn't break your nose you big baby, but if you don't get off'a me right now, I will break your nose!"_

"Maybe you're right, Race. Maybe we'd better separate these two he-men."

It took a bit of doing, but Race and David finally pulled Spot and Jack away from each other.

"Okay, Jack," David said patting him on the back. "It's getting late, and I think that we'd better head for home."

"Head for home? Are you crazy? We can't leave Mary Sue alone with him!"

"Jack, I think that you're getting a little confused. That's Racetrack, not Mary Sue, remember?"

"Yeah, but she thinks he's a girl . . . I mean he thinks she's a girl . . . I mean . . ."

"Yes, Jack. I know what you mean. But Race is going to be just fine. I'll explain it all on the walk home."

"I can't walk home. That little bastard bit me on the ankle!"

"Your ankle is going to be just fine. I'll make it feel better when we get home."

"How the hell are you gonna do that?" Jack huffed.

David whispered something to Jack, which caused him to grin from ear to ear.

"Come on, Dave. Can't you walk any faster? The sooner we get started the sooner we'll be home, and you can start making this ankle of mine feel better!"

"Bye, guys!" Race called. "I'll see ya back in Manhattan tomorrow. And stay away from those dark alleys. You don't want any of those Mary Sue's gettin' ya!"

Race looked over at Spot. He was leaning against some packing crates and was obviously sulking.

"What's the matter with you?" Race asked.

"That son-of-a-bitch bit my ear! It hurts like hell!"

"Let me take a look at it," Race said. When he got close enough, he blew into Spot's ear and whispered, "I bet I know how to make it feel better."

"Why, Mary Sue," Spot grinned. "That isn't a very ladylike thing to say."

"Who are you callin' a lady, pal?" Race asked as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Ya know, Race, Jack gave me a good sock to the mouth too."

Race lifted Spot's chin to examine the injury. He moved his fingers across Spot's lips and said, "I can definitely make this feel better."

Spot tilted his head and pointed to the base of his neck. "Jack kicked me right here and it feels awfully sore," he smirked.

Race moved his face closer to get a better look. A chill ran through Spot's body as Race's warm breath washed over his neck. "I'm sure that I can make that feel better, too," Race grinned.

"Come to think of it, Jack got in a few good shots. There are places all over my body that could use a little attention."

"Well, it looks like I've got my work cut out for me," Race chuckled. "Let's go inside so I can get a better look."

"Wait a minute, Race. Don't forget that the guys still think that you're Mary Sue. It would be too hard to explain why you didn't leave with Jack if they found out that you're back to normal."

"Quit talking nonsense, Spottikins," Race said as he flipped his imaginary long hair. "And stop calling me Race! I'm going back up to my room, and don't you dare try to follow me!" Race stopped to give Spot a wink before he marched into the warehouse and stomped up the stairs.

Spot laughed as he ran behind Race and took the stairs two at a time. "That door better not be locked, Mary Sue," he shouted. "Get ready 'cause I'm comin' in!"

**End**

**Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed Mary Sue. Your reviews will be appreciated.**


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